Final Fantasy: Requiem of Life
by Talon Serpentia
Summary: A story revolving around Final Fantasy. It's full of action, suspense, and mystery. Occuring 1000 years after FFVII, all the characters are completely original. Having never played FF before, I hope to enthrall my readers with rich storytelling.
1. Chapter 1

_**Final Fantasy:**_

_**Requiem of Life**_

_**Prologue**_

THE MASSIVE AIRSHIP TRAWLED ACROSS the open expanse of the sky. Its motors hummed monotonously and the rotors turned in great slow revolutions around and around. Men strolled the upper decks, some taking large drags on lit cigarettes, slowly letting the smoke out through their nostrils. They were all dressed in a navy blue uniform with a large red stripe, with a smaller black stripe abreast, that traveled down the side of their pant leg. Their shirts were also navy blue, knit together with golden buttons. Each of them wore different colored ribbons that showed rank or authority. They wore white caps with a black brim and the caps bore the insignia of the Promortics government. Two swords that impaled the body of a phoenix; the phoenix's beak opened in a large cry of agony and behind it, tongues of fire danced.

One man leaned against the railing of the airship and let out a plume of smoke through his nose from the cigarette he had pulled from his mouth. He had brown hair and the smoke singed the mustache that curled down to his cheeks. The bright red ribbon that hung from his uniform showed that he was a Commanding Officer. He spoke to another man that stood nearby.

"This world is going to the dogs," he announced, "What with all these monsters and crap that they bring with them, it's only a matter of time before we get overrun by them."

The man he spoke to was silent for a moment. Unlike the other men, he wore a long black trench coat, his hair was also black and flowed down his back. His green eyes were slanted and they looked as if they had seen events that no mortal man could dare live through.

"Maybe," he said calmly, his voice was deep, but not intrusive, "but if so, then I would die fighting them and taking as many with me to the grave as possible. I wouldn't want such scum to live on this green earth that was gifted to us."

The navy officer laughed aloud and replied, "Hah! Don't we all wish that we could fight them, but they bring with them weapons that not even we can destroy. Anyone who faces them is killed."

"Then why do we continue these patrols?" asked the man in black, "Why, do we continue them if we know that the monsters will kill us anyways? We should go into hiding and run away with our tails between our legs, correct?"

The Commanding Officer paused for a moment before saying, "God knows why we continue them. If it was me who was in charge I would go into hiding and try to stay alive as long as possible. We can't fight them. Only the power of the dreaded Sephiroth could stop them, but he's been dead for over a millennia."

"You would call on Sephiroth? The demon that tried to destroy the earth?" the man asked with quiet incredulously.

"If he could destroy the monsters and save us? Yes, I would without a doubt," replied the officer. The officer looked at the man closely, his cigarette hanging loosely in his hand, then asked, "Who are you? You do not wear the uniform of the army, nor do you wear anything that ties you to the government. Why are you here?"

The man was silent a long time, his hair blew across his face. He finally responded, "My name is Requiem. I did not give the name to myself, and I do not know who gave it to me. I do not know who gave me birth, but I do know that the Promortics government found me abandoned in an old, burned-down, genetic laboratory from the Shinra era. The government found a slip of paper lying next to me that read, 'Requiem', and this they named me.

"As I grew in the government's care, I realized I was different from others. I knew skills that no one else knew. I could wield a gunblade at nine with ease; at eleven, I had mastered using two gunblades in each hand and could use a pistol with them. The government, awed at my talents, pressed me into their service and gave me the position of 'Special Assassin' when I was thirteen. My missions concerned the assassinations of people whom the government feared. These were wealthy businessmen and corrupt politicians. By the time I turned sixteen, I had murdered over five-hundred people."

The officer's mouth dropped in astonishment, "But that's so young!" he exclaimed, "How could the government do something like that?"

"Who knew of me?" the young man responded bitterly, "No one knew of my existence except the government and the people I killed. But once I reached my twenties, I was tired of them and told them I had had enough. Over a thousand assassinations and yet I didn't receive anything. No one knew me, I had no friends, and the government had the gall not to even pay me for my deeds. I was finished.

"But the government responded with a grudge. They told me after all they had done, raising me and providing for me, that I was insolent for leaving them. Like I cared. I pulled a gun on my superiors and said they all deserved to die for what they did. They panicked and told me I could leave. I should have shot their pitiful bodies then and there, but I didn't. I walked out and they left me alone for five years. I was happy, people knew me and they weren't afraid."

"Then I received a call from them. They seeked my help and it wasn't assassinations they needed. They wanted help against the monsters that were swarming from the earth's depths. At first I said no, but they warned me of the consequences. Millions of people would be killed and the earth's population would be wiped out. I hated the way they made me feel, like it was up to me to save the world, but I couldn't refuse. I said yes. I was swept away from my happiness and thrown into this war against monsters, and yet there you stand saying how you would rather just give up and run away. It sickens me how I gave up my life when the government doesn't even want to fight."

The officer gaped at the man and then bellowed with laughter. "It's your own fault for falling into their trap!" he exclaimed, "If you had said no then you would still be happy and living a life of peace."

"And know that the world was going to die? Knowing that the people around me might face horrible deaths if I didn't help? What kind of life is that?" Requiem spat.

"A life better than this one," the officer responded. "Living in fear all the time, seeing comrades of yours perish at the hands of some nameless beast? Devoured alive, their screams still echoing in your head? Only the insane would still fight."

"Then I must be insane," Requiem said.

"Yes, you must be." The officer took one last drag and tossed his cigarette over the rail. He turned to walk away when something caught his eye behind him. He turned and saw his cigarette smoldering on the wooden planks.

"What the--?" was all he got out before a black beast leapt over the rail and crashed into his body. The monster swiped a sharp claw across the officer's throat and blood spewed from the gash. The officer gurgled and dark red blood trickled from his mouth. The life quickly faded from his eyes and his red ribbon was swept away by his own blood. The last thing he saw was a black blur sweeping over him towards the monsters.

Requiem, meanwhile, as soon as he saw the cigarette return over the rail, had thrown himself into the air, performing two full backflips and drawing two swords from his concealed belt. When the first of many monsters appeared he had just landed on the opposite rail and catapulted himself towards them. He let his body spin, his two swords whirling in a deadly circle. The beast that killed the commanding officer just had time to look up before his head was sent spinning away, the blood from its neck splashing on top of it.

Requiem landed within a maw of black, biting creatures that resembled large dogs except for the fact that long, black, slimy tendrils slithered down their spine and trailed behind them like leeches.

One snapped at his throat and Requiem just managed to bring up a sword to cut through its middle, sending a wave of dark red splashing down, making the deck slippery. Requiem jumped high into the air, performing a somersault and pulled a gun from his pocket. While coming back down he snapped the gun into a slot in one of his swords, making a much more powerful gunblade. With a flourish he sheathed the other sword and pulled out another pistol. He let gravity power his downward thrust and he slammed into the bulk of monsters, sending body parts and innards flying.

He fired several shots with the pistol, sending three of the monsters back over the rail, falling to their deaths. The soldiers on deck of the airship were caught off-guard and most of them had been killed by the initial onslaught, but a few still stood, letting off shots with hand guns since the machine guns lay locked in the weapons room below. It was apparent that the airship wasn't going to hold for much longer. The dog-like beasts continued to clamber over the rails and although Requiem was able to kill at least five with each swipe of his gunblade, it wasn't enough to kill them all.

A large explosion rocked the deck and Requiem looked up. The beasts had invaded a fuel room and several kamikazes had launched themselves at the tanks, breaking through the metal, thus igniting the tanks and destroying the motors nearby. The airship started to slant downwards towards the ground at an alarming speed. Dead corpses slid off the airship and hurtled down to the rocky ground. Requiem gripped a stairwell with the hand that also gripped the pistol to keep himself upright and continued to battle the able-footed dog-like monsters with only his gunblade. He decapitated three more and with the backswing impaled another two. He flipped the sword through the air, sending several beasts hurtling back and when he caught it swung it around in a broad swipe that sent five monsters crumpling over in unison.

Yet still there were more to take their place. _This isn't going to work, _Requiem thought. He loosened his grip on the stairwell, and placed his foot on it. He tensed himself and as he brought his gunblade up to his chest, hurtled himself straight through the pack of monsters. He continued to fly through the monsters, the blade mowing them down as he flew by.

Another explosion ripped through the airship and the slant worsened. The few men who were still alive cried out as the deck beneath their feet vanished. They plummeted to their deaths, screaming in terror as they were swallowed up by the sky.

Requiem let his weight carry him headfirst down the length of the airship, seemingly falling to his death. As he neared the bottom of the ship and death he let out a roar and plunged his gunblade deep into the deck. A massive tear in the deck appeared and the entire ship detonated. Wooden planks and parts of the airship blew in all directions, impaling monsters left and right. Those who survived the impaling were vaporized as all the remaining fuel tanks exploded. Requiem had let his blade slide out of the deck and airship and had fallen from the air before the fuel tanks had lit. He leapt from bodies to pieces of the airship down the thousands of feet to the ground.

As he lightly landed on the ground, he looked up. Pieces of the airship were still falling, crashing into the earth around him. Bodies also littered the area around him. The men who had served on the airship lay lifeless. Requiem scanned the bodies, looking for one of a monster, but there were none. All of the monster's bodies had disappeared.

He sighed and shook his head. He could never find a body to examine. Every time he slew one, the bodies would mysteriously vanish. Requiem scanned the area around him. He had landed in a canyon. There was little protection from the sun and already the blood from the bodies was starting to evaporate, making the air around Requiem red.

Several vultures had descended and were already making due the bodies of the soldiers. Picking away at their skin, looking for the red meat that lay beneath.

Requiem let out another sigh. This wasn't going to be easy getting back.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 1_

_Capture_

THE WIND RUFFLED THE GRASS of the field and the sky overhead shone a brilliant blue. A young woman picked delicate flowers from the field, placing each into a woven basket. She wore a red dress that was laced with elegant ribbons that hung from her sleeves. Her face had a softness to it that gave her an almost goddess-like appearance. Her eyes, a bright blue stood contrast to her flaming red hair. As the breeze grew, Ila pulled several strands of loose hair away from her mouth.

"Bleh," she muttered in distaste. She reached down and pricked a pink flower from the ground and placed it gently into her basket.

Although on the exterior Ila seemed calm, on the inside she was boiling.

_Why do I continue to do this? This is so stupid! I shouldn't be sitting here picking flowers when I could be out fighting the freakin' government! The government that enslaves all of its subjects into paying outrageous taxes and doesn't do anything in return except kill us for no reason! They drag us off to their factories and make us work for almost no pay and then keep us there so we can't run off! The only reason I'm still here is because we live so high up in these mountains! I would rather go off and join the fight against the government instead of waiting here to be yanked off by grinning men!_

Ila recalled the conversation she had with her father before she came out to these fields._"Daddy!" she exclaimed, "If we don't fight now, we're just going to be dragged off to the factories later!"_

_"I will not have my daughter off fighting in battles," her father told her sternly, "There are plenty enough men who are doing that already."_

_"But they aren't enough! They need more people!" Ila tried to reason._

_"Then let other people send their daughters off into war, I will not stand to see my own daughter be killed in battle." Ila's father stood firm._

_"Daddy, I promise I won't be killed. I'm not a child anymore," Ila pointed out._

_"Wrong. You are still my_ _child, no matter how old you grow," her father said lovingly._

_"Stop trying to dissuade me by spouting out mushy words," Ila told her father, but she was still touched, "Please, Father, you have to understand."_

_Her father sat, his brow wrinkled in emotion. "Ila," he said softly, "I just can't let you go. With your mother's death only a few months ago, I would be devastated if another one of my flowers were to be plucked away from me. Please, no more about going off and fighting the government."_

_Ila couldn't bear to continue the argument with her father in so much pain, so she said, "Okay, Daddy. I guess I could stay. But I'll never stop wanting to fight the government. I'm going out to the field to pick some more flowers for you. That will make you feel better."_

So here she was, picking flowers for her emotional father who couldn't let go of his dead wife. Of course, her mother's death had been hard on Ila too, but she had been forced to stop mourning to look after her grief-stricken father.

She felt something cold on her waist. She glanced down and saw the reassuring gleam of the dagger she always carried. Her father might be afraid of the Promortics government, she wasn't. She had trained herself in the use of daggers and she had mastered them. Although she could only afford one at the moment, she hoped to obtain more over time.

She proceeded through the field letting her hands choose which flowers she would return to her father. She had traveled quite a ways from her home, but she didn't mind. No one would bother her this far from civilization.

As she stooped over to pluck a purple lilac, the acrid stench of smoke filled her nostrils. Turned on to high alert, she whipped her head up and pulled out her dagger in one smooth motion. She saw a plume of inky black smoke fill the sky. Her blood froze. The smoke came from the direction of her house.

"Daddy!" Ila screamed in terror and gruesome thoughts began to play through her mind. She pictured two soldiers pulling her dead father out of her burning home.

Ila began to sprint towards her home. The basket of flowers fell from her hand and crashed into the earth. The wind picked up the flowers and bore them away into the breeze. Ila pulled her dagger from her waist and suddenly realized how puny it seemed. The small, six-inch dagger seemed awfully tiny when compared to the long swords the soldiers of the Promortics government carried. How was she going to beat them?

Ila somehow pushed the thought aside and continued to run towards her house. The smoke began to fill her eyes and mouth and she began to choke while her eyes watered. The determined girl finally made it to her blazing abode.

The home that she had lived in for the past year was now burning to the ground. Smoke poured out of its upper windows on the second floor while flames seeped from the windows on the first floor. No sign of Ila's father could be seen anywhere.

"Daddy!" Ila shouted in fear and desperation.

She threw herself into the fiery building and searched for her father. Ila stumbled into the living room and saw her father, bound and gagged to a wooden chair.

"Daddy!" Ila exclaimed in relief, instantly regretting it as smoke poured down her throat, sending her hacking for air that was not there.

Her father's eyes widened and he began making violent motions with his head in the direction of the door and fresh air.

"N..N- No…" Ila coughed, "I won't leave you."

She quickly cut the ropes that held her father captive and pulled him from the chair. Her father fell into her and the dagger fell out of her hands and skidded away. The frightened daughter pulled off her father's gag and together they both stumbled to the door and fell outside, wheezing and gasping loudly for air.

"Aw, how cute," came a male voice.

Only then did Ila realize what a dreadful mistake it was to have left her dagger inside.

Ila forced her head up. The man who had spoken was tall. He had long, wispy, silver hair that was pulled back into a ponytail and his goatee was also silver. His eyes were as black as coal and his mouth twisted in a grin. He held a small hand gun loosely in his palm.

"How touching, a daughter who saves her father from a dreadful fate now is embraced in his arms. How very touching indeed."

And with that, he shot Ila's father three times in his face.

Ila sat stunned as her father's blood trickled down her dress and arms. It was warm and sticky and had a strange sweet smell to it. And then she screamed.

"_Nooooo!_" she wailed at the very highest of her voice, "No, please no…."

The man who shot Ila's father watched for a moment, then pulled Ila to her feet, letting her father's body slump to the ground. She tried to slap the soldier as hard as possible, but he caught her hand in a tight hold.

"No need to get feisty, now," he said, "He had every right to die by lying to a superior officer of the Promortics government."

"Superior officer my butt," Ila hissed, rage filling her, "All you are is a man filled on power, feeding off the weakness of others."

The man laughed, "Maybe, but insulting me is not a good way to help yourself."

"Makes me feel a whole lot better," Ila snapped back.

"One shouldn't follow impulsive feelings," the man replied.

Ila harrumphed and stayed silent.

"Now, now. . .you don't need to give me the silent treatment. Actually, I'm helping you by taking you to a better home in the city," soothed the superior officer.

"The factories?" Ila asked in disbelief, "Please, we both know that the factories are dark pits of despair. I know people die by the hundreds every day in those god-awful places."

"Granted you will have to work a bit, but it's really not as bad as people make it sound," the man said.

Ila laughed humorlessly. "Who the heck are you?" she questioned harshly.

"My name?" the officer asked, "I am First Class Superior Officer Lan. I am head of all operations in this part of the country and have been given authority to find workers for the government's factories."

Ila snorted. "You mean to find slaves," she said bluntly.

Lan gave a smile that did not reach his eyes and said, "Yes, that is what I do."

Lan made a motion and two soldiers clad in black slipped from behind two trees and began to drag Ila away. Ila fought and tried to kick, but one of the soldiers slammed his fist against the side of her head and her vision clouded and the world went dark.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 2_

_Lessons_

"COME ON, FRIEDA. WE DON'T want to be late for supper," cried the little girl to her cat.

The two were running through a dark alley, the buildings around it large and menacing. Wisps of fog snaked their way through the dark air of the city. A few small lights burned nearby, making the alley path viewable.

The cat mewed in acknowledgement and began to bound its way forward when a gloved hand suddenly snatched it off the ground. A man stepped into the alley from a side passage.

"Hey! Let go of my cat!" protested the little girl, her little brown curls bouncing.

The man with the gloved hands started to stroke the cat's spine. The cat hissed and struggled, but the man kept a tight hold. The man stood alone with no one else around him. His blonde hair slanted to one side of his face and covered his right eye. His visible eye gleamed red and he wore a tight black leather jumpsuit, with several small guns hanging from a belt strapped around his waist. Two long swords draped across his back in an "X" shape and another two daggers were sheathed on his chest.

He began to murmur, "Innocence of youth - what a treasured thing it is. The unknown knowledge of the world's tragedies and the only concern being supper at home. How I long for such a gift, but alas, here I am, caught up in this war, the only thing I know being the cruelties of the world."

He pulled one of his guns out of their holster and the cat began to claw more violently at her captor. The little girl took a step closer and whimpered.

"Life," the man continued, "and death. The two words are tied so closely together, yet they are far from being the same. You can have life one moment and in the next second death is upon you. Or you see life in one of your beloved and watch as death sweeps down and rips away your friend's soul."

The man lapsed in silence again The little girl was about to speak when suddenly the man hurtled the struggling cat high into the air and shot it twice with his gun. The cat crashed to the ground and remained motionless, a small pool of red spreading around it.

"Frieda!" the little girl cried in despair and sat down and began to weep.

"A lesson in the cruelties of the world," Marx whispered as he held the smoking gun in his palm. He turned away and left the crying girl where she lay.

He continued down the alley, taking determined steps. The gun still lay in his hand, still warm from the two shots he had just fired. Three more men slid from the shadows and fell in step behind Marx. They wore identical jumpsuits and wore dark black sunglasses that contoured to their face. They each carried a semi-automatic machine gun in their hands and they also bore several smaller firearms.

Marx smiled at how professional they were. He had trained them, of course, and no one could stop them.

"Are you ready?" he asked quietly, not really asking the men knowing their reply.

"Yes, sir," came the obvious response from each of the men.

"Good," Marx breathed.

They continued down the alley, twisting and winding their way through the confusing streets of Rimgad, the country's capital city. The way became darker as they passed out of the industrial section of the city and into the historical area. No lights lit the way and the men had to rely on their night vision to see.

They came to a large building. It was shaped like a warehouse and it stretched deep into the black of night. It was old and rust crept up its side like a mutated vine. There were a few windows that lined the top of the building and Marx could see a few lights flickering inside. A faded sign that was hanging over the front entrance held up by a single screw read, "SHINRA GENETICS".

"We're here," Mark said to himself.

He motioned to his men and together they slipped up to the front door. One of the men took out a hinge-cutter, but Marx stopped him and said, "Wait, look."

Marx turned the rusty doorknob and pushed. The door opened without a sound; the hinges were new and well-oiled.

"They're here all right," Marx confirmed.

They stealthily entered the building and Marx slid a finger across his throat indicating complete silence. Inside it was pitch black. There were no sources of light anywhere to be seen. Marx and his men pulled out night-vision goggles and put them on. Once the goggles had snuggled into place, Mark realized they were in some kind of lobby. There was a reception desk and a few chairs sitting against the wall. A door stood to the left of the desk and Marx made his way towards it.

Marx cracked the door open and looked inside. It was some sort of hall and at the far end there was another door that lay slightly open. A beam of bright light shot out from it and Marx knew that was where he wanted to go.

He beckoned with his hand and entered the hall. A loud, shrieking, cry made him whip his head around, pulling his gun out. His men had their machine guns raised and they were looking around wildly. Only then did Marx realize that the noise had come from inside the other door.

Stilling his hammering heart, he continued on. He made it to the door and craned his neck inside. The source of the light was a bulb shining above the door and Marx took off his goggles. But there were few other lights in this part of the warehouse. There was a metal railing in front of them and behind that was some sort of laboratory. Marx crept forward and slightly raised his head above the railing to look down at the lab below.

"What in the world?" Marx whispered in quiet shock.

The lab was big. Several large tanks sat along one side of the wall while several more lined the other wall. There was a large computer sitting on the opposite wall from where Marx squatted and lights were blinking on and off. Next to the computer were several smaller clear tubes which contained a black liquid substance. But what caught Marx's attention most were the tables. He was looking at several tables, on top of which lay gruesomely mutated human beings. Long, slimy black tendrils slithered down out of their heads and their skin had turned a dark black. Their naked bodies pulsed and quivered as some sort of current was being fed into them through cables that injected themselves into their bodies.

A few scientists were checking things off on their clipboards, examining the mutated humans, making small adjustments on a computer that all the cables seemed to lead to. One of the mutated humans gave out another loud, piercing shriek as a scientist twisted a knob on the computer. At least twenty other men, who were armed with guns and swords, also sat in the room. They were big and powerful looking and several were spinning their swords in skillful control. They were chatting and paying no attention to the railing where Marx sat concealed.

_Those fools, don't they know what they're playing with? _Marx thought as he sat back down behind the railing.

Suddenly, one of his men let out the tiniest cough. Instantly the men down below were on their feet and shooting at the railing. The man who had coughed was splattered by a hail of bullets and he tipped and fell over the railing, slamming into an empty tank.

"Go!" Marx shouted at his two remaining men.

They nodded and instantly they started to fire back down at the men with their machine guns. The scientists cried out as they were first to get hit before the men swung their guns on to their mass of men standing by themselves.

Marx himself though, took out a sword, clipped a gun to it and threw himself over the railing, aiming himself at the men who had their attention on the bullets raining down on them.

The first man stood no chance and his gun arm landed with a thud on the floor. He screamed in agony and dropped to the ground, clutching the bloody stump. Marx ripped off several more appendages with his sword before they stared to turn on him. Marx's men stopped firing in fear of hitting Marx. Marx grinned as fifteen heavy-powered guns swung around to face him. Five of the men drew their swords and clipped their own machine guns to them, grinning at Marx wickedly.

Marx's own gunblade seemed awfully weak looking compared to their huge, monstrous gunblades they hefted with ease. Marx didn't mind. He always liked a challenge. Marx gave out a cry and sprang into the air. He turned himself in a somersault and swung down with his gunblade. Two men met their end as the sword swept cleanly through their heads. Marx landed lightly onto a tank and pushed off again, aiming down at the men. With three more easy slashes he had killed another three men and they fell to the ground soundless, hands still clutching guns. Marx let himself fall to the ground and landed with a neat roll. He finished off the rest of the gunmen with a large powerful sweep of his blade.

Finally, the men with the big gunblades moved. The first gave a loud, throaty roar and gripped his sword with both hands. He attacked Marx with a crushing downswing, but before the man even had time to react, Marx was behind him and had stabbed him through his back, the sword ripping out his chest. The man gurgled and slid off Marx's sword. Marx brought his sword up as the four other men charged at once.

Marx parried, slipped, ducked, weaved, stabbed, jumped up, stabbed again, disappeared, and then came back again to finish off the rest of the pathetic swordsmen. As they all fell as one, some heads rolled away and some upper torsos fell away too. The ground was quickly stained red by their blood.

Marx's men came down a concealed staircase and joined him.

"That was incredible, sir," one of them said in astonishment.

"Hardly," Marx replied, "They were barely capable enough to hold a gunblade."

The men didn't press and Marx walked over to the tables that the monsters lay on. The first one he came to had once been female. She looked at him with dark eyes that showed no emotion. Marx looked down her body and saw that she had once been very slim and quite beautiful, but the tendrils that writhed and squirmed down the length of her body and the putrid black of her skin took away any beauty that might have been there before. A foul odor came off of her and Marx felt a rare stab of pity.

"Poor girl," he whispered, "She is in much pain and I doubt there could be anything done to save her.

Marx reluctantly pulled a gun out and said, "This is the best I can do to stop the pain."

He shot the girl in her temple; a spray of black blood spurted out the other side and landed to the floor heavily. Marx went to the other tables and saw these monsters had once been men. They too, had the same look as the girl and he was forced to kill them as well.

As Marx stood there, having shot the last monster, he thought, looking at the still corpse, _What lessons have been taught today? What have I learned? What they are doing here confuses me even more. Why do they do this? It is something that must be thought over and pondered._

He turned away and said to his men, "Come, our mission here is complete. We have no more business here. Burn the building when we leave."

"Yes, sir." The men saluted and hurried back up the staircase. Marx followed them and as he stepped outside the entrance he smelled the odor of gasoline wafting to him from inside. As he walked away and back down the alley, he mused.

When he reached the alley where he had shot the cat, Marx saw it lying there still. The girl had disappeared. Then there was a large explosion behind him as the warehouse ignited.


End file.
